


Saudade

by TheAntleredPolarBear



Series: Children of the Force [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 10:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22494778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAntleredPolarBear/pseuds/TheAntleredPolarBear
Summary: saudade, n. - (in Portuguese folk culture) a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent.Dawn Syndulla remembers her last night at the Jedi Temple.
Series: Children of the Force [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618333
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Saudade

Tatooine, 32ABY

Sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she can see them again. The bright, shining faces of her classmates swim into focus, screwed up in concentration, or wearing the serene expression that came with deep meditation. Their smiles are her favourite things to remember: the ecstatic grin of a youngling that had just mastered a new technique, or the shaking beams of laughter, or a peaceful expression of a napping child.

The proud, quiet smile that she sometimes caught crossing Master Luke’s face.

Sometimes, if she’s lucky, she can only remember the smiles and the laughter. But most of the time, nearly all the time now, she remembers more. The sense of impending danger rising in her oesophagus. She’d gone to the door of her bedroom, and she’d expected to hear the hum of lightsabers or the popping of blaster fire. Instead, there was a lone figure. He’d looked down upon her, a girl with no weapon. His eyes were full of such rage, but there was something else in those eyes too, something haunted. Then he’d turned, and walked away.

She remembers that the most clearly.

There was more, of course. The panic, lights in the windows, burning fires and shrieks of pain. The sound of her own leg snapping under the weight of a fallen pillar. Heat and death all around her. Chaos her mind could not register properly. But those eyes are what followed her through time and space to the present. Even now, she can almost see it in the bottom of the glass, if she squints at it through the golden liquid. The tortured look she saw in the eyes of a killer.

A noise of disgust forces its way up her windpipe. Funny, you drink to forget, and forget everything except the memories you tried to drown out. Still, she’s sure that can be remedied with the application of more of the stuff. She puts the glass to her lips, throws her head back, and drains it in one. Her face screws up as the alcohol burns in her mouth and throat. Her head started swimming an hour or two ago, but now the room seems like it’s joined in. She grabs at the bar with her free hand to steady herself as she slams the tumbler down.

“Gimme another one,” she says. She frowns at the slur in her speech. The barkeep doesn’t even look at her as he refills the glass. A lot of other places might have cut her off by now, but he couldn’t care less. That’s why she likes him. She looks down into her glass, and to her disgust, Dawn Syndulla still sees the eyes of Ben Organa-Solo staring back at her.


End file.
